


Inspiration

by Mari (chamarileon)



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: College AU, Fluff, Inspiration, M/M, Modern AU, and i got a perfect score, hamiltrash coming through, i made it super vague because of that fact, i made this for school honestly, my work got used as an example !!!, so i turned it in for school, why am i like this, writing stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamarileon/pseuds/Mari
Summary: “You’re my inspiration.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a school assignment, oops! Please enjoy! Thank you for reading! xx - Mari

It began with a pen. He wrote a single line, followed by another. Constant scribbles and light sighs filled the room. Occasionally, he would crumple a piece of paper and throw it across the room because the idea just wasn’t good enough. How did one become inspired enough to write for hours on end and be pleased with the results? The fact was, he could write for hours, but writing it well and how he’d like it written was another issue entirely. Alex threw yet another paper across the room and let out a sound of displeasure. “Urgh!”

His door opened soon afterwards. “Are you doing alright?” a voice asked.

He sighed, turning to face the newcomer. “Yeah. I’m fine, John. Just… frustrated,” he mumbled out.

The older’s eyebrows crinkled in concern. “Well, what’s going on?”

His eyes quickly scanned over the pile of crumpled papers that happened to miss the trashcan. “Oh,” he deadpanned.

Alex groaned, knowing exactly what was to come.

“Alex. Really, you can’t keep doing this. You write like crazy. You literally have the best grades because of your writing, but you write way too much. Don’t need to keep rewriting it.”

“It’s not good enough though!” he complained. “What am I meant to do when it doesn’t live up to my own expectations? I have so much to say. I have so much to express! I can’t do that when I’m displeased with my own writing. And stop giving me that pitying look.”

John crossed the room, taking a seat on the bed. “I’m not pitying you, Alex.”

“Well you look like you are.”

John rolled his eyes. “Okay, Alex, look. You go days without sleeping just to write your opinions and stories down. Relax for once. Get some sleep. Eat a proper meal while you’re at it,” he stated before ending with a soft, “Take a break.”

Alex sighed, shutting the leatherback notebook as quietly as possible. “Alright, yeah. Sure.”

“Good!” John exclaimed, smiling largely. He took his hands in his own and pulled him out of the room. “Alright, so why don’t you sit down and let me make some food? You missed a bit in class the other day that I need to catch you up on!”

He smiled a bit in return, taking a seat at the barside in the kitchen. “What’d I miss?”

“Okay, so Sam decided that he’d debate,” John stated, placing some white bread in the toaster. “But wait, it gets worse. It wasn’t just another opinion; It was about what hair colour is better than the others.”

Alex groaned in reply. “Are you serious? He’s going to bring this up  _ again _ ? How many times does Maria have to slam him about bringing up stupid topics in a debate class before he gets that no one in that class cares?”

John nodded, getting the butter out of the fridge. He took out the pieces of toast and began to slather the butter on. “I know! Maria and Eliza both went off on him today. I think Eliza is just as ticked off about hearing it as Maria is. At least we only have a few classes left this semester, right?”

“Yeah, true,” Alex agreed.

The two were in a comfortable silence. Alex let his gaze roam over the other, taking in the sights of his large amount of freckles and his poofy, curly, tied-back hair. Not only was John calming, he was supportive and caring. John was there each time he was overworking himself; He was there to assure Alex as well. He could probably write an entire story dedicated to the male’s charms and amazing qualities.

“Wait, that’s it!” Alex suddenly exclaimed while standing up.

As soon as John got over a slight jump from the loud voice, he turned with a look of pure confusion. “What?”

“I– uh, I have an idea, okay? I’ll be back!” he said excitedly while running straight back into his room.

He took a seat in his cushioned chair and quickly opened the notebook, throwing it to a blank page. His brain immediately began throwing out sentences and ideas. The lightbulb in his head was at full blast. Each word he wrote came as quickly as the last, words constantly pouring out onto the paper.  It was nonstop. He quickly filled up an entire page worth of writing within a couple minutes just dedicated to the freckles that span across John’s sunkissed nose and cheeks. He hadn’t even noticed John sitting on his bed with the food, just watching him write.

“What are you writing?” he prodded gently.

“Just,” Alex mumbled, pausing while he wrote another line, “an idea I had.”

John simply nodded. He knew not to bother Alex when he was that focused and intent on writing something. Within the next ten minutes he had stopped writing, and was looking over his work.

“Hey, John. I have something for you.”

“For me?”

Alex nodded, handing the notebook to him.

John’s eyes began to scan over the writing. No, writing wasn’t the word. It was a piece of abstract art that was put into messy handwriting, written by a man fueled by coffee who avoided poems because he could not stand to write in an allotted syllable count.

One short section of the scribbled words read the following:

“I find it hard to express my gratitude and my affections

For you as I find myself wordless at your reflection.

Your smile is brighter than the sun itself,

And my heart stalls while scanning the shelf

Of my attachments. I lack many, and few have managed

To have found themselves in an advantageous position.

Your freckles are like that of stardust;

They are of an astronaut’s lust.

You’re kind and mature in the times of my need,

You care and made sure to avoid personal greed

All while making sure to read into my heart’s imagination.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” John whispered, continuing to re-read the poorly composed, yet beautifully worded poem.

“You give me more inspiration than anything in this world does, John. I don’t know why you’re still here or how you can deal with my arrogance at times but..”

He looked up from the writing to make eye contact.

“But I appreciate it. You’re always here. You’re one-of-a-kind, and I love that about you. Your nagging and all,” he said with a small laugh, thinking back to every time John had told him to stop working and to just take care of himself.

“You’re my inspiration.”

With that final sentence, he carefully lifted up the crumpled papers from the ground and handed them to John. “So, which one do you think had the best writing?”


End file.
